Maternal Sins
by OMFG-Roach
Summary: She serves them, always bound to their laws, their rules, all because of a pact her mother made...but what will Tawni have to sacrifice if she is to survive in a world of swords and magic, of dungeons and dragons? Dignity? Independence? Sanity?
1. I: The Summons and an attack

**DISCALIMER: **I do not own ANYTHING except the plotline, the settings, and a few characters here and there. I hereby forfeit all claims to any copyrighted material.

One moment Tawni was at the mall with Sonny trying to find a dress for the Wisconsinite to wear for her date with Chad Dylan Cooper, the next she was on the floor _writhing and groaning in agony as voices flooded her mind. _It…it sounded like there was supposed to be only _one,_ but somehow there was a chorus…

_You, girl…you are very important. Don't worry; you won't need an explanation. You're not getting one, anyways. Fair, no; needed, perhaps. _

_All you need to know is that the time has come. You've yet to fulfill your end of the pact, but we'll try and keep our promise. What pact, you might ask? The pact that binds _you_ to _us. _Again, that's all you need to know; after all, you're not getting any explanations out of us._

_You're our pawn; a powerful, beautiful, steadfast, courageous pawn. _

_It's time you came into play. We've got them on the run, and you're our secret weapon._

The last thing Tawni remembered hearing before she blacked out was, _do _not_ fail us, or there _will_ be consequences…we didn't spend all this time deliberating over whether we should use you or not just to find out that you were one big disappointment all along…_

_

* * *

_

When Tawni woke up, the first thing she realized was that she was _not_ in California anymore. Of course, she still could have been, but the various trees that were surrounding her were a mix of deciduous and confers (she also briefly thanked whatever deity truly existed for having her actually _listen_ during class long enough to tell the difference twixt the two), vastly unlike the mighty redwoods she saw back home. The soft grass was green, teeming with insects and dotted with various flowers at random intervals. Light slowly filtered through the canopy, beams of sun barely piercing through.

The next thing she noticed was that she was dressed funny. A black cloak surrounded her neck, covering what appeared to be a black bodice, black leather pants (that were starting to hug her rear just a _little_ too tightly for her tastes, but they were rather comfortable nonetheless), and black boots with various leather straps going from right to left, securing her footwear firmly to her legs with silver buckles. The cloak was very comfortable to wear, truth be told, and she had taken a rather quick fondness to it, anyway. She was also sporting fingerless gloves that were, perhaps predictably, also black, stopping about midway along both her arms, with the same kinds of black straps and silver buckles she had on her boots, up to about where her elbows were. At least her breasts didn't suddenly expand to enormous proportions. Then again, she wasn't exactly _flat_ to begin with; her breasts were large enough to add an almost seductive quality to her personality, yet small enough that they didn't become sandbags that decided to hitch a free-ride on a poor girl's torso. _That_ much, she noted to herself, she was thankful for.

It all looked very…chic on her. Stylish, even. Why, she would've gone as far to say that she looked like some nerd's bedroom fantasy (of course, she'd prefer to be in some jeans and Choos (maybe even that sudden chest expansion; it'd fit the bodice a _lot_ better), but beggars weren't exactly choosers, if she remembered correctly…).

She felt something…_move_ as she sat up gingerly. It felt weird, like it was always there and yet she just noticed it for the first time. Something was hanging off of her left hip. Something…she guessed it had to be triangular in shape, judging by the fact that there was a tip that almost poked her. It _had_ to be a dagger or sword-thingy or some such. If she recalled correctly, there was also a case that went with it…what were they called again? Scabbards…yeah, that was what they were called. The handle was called the 'hilt' (or something like that; she couldn't remember, and yet she could tell the difference between deciduous trees and confers, so she had _that_ going for her…) and the _really_ sharp, pointy end that was made of metal was called the 'blade' (again, she couldn't remember; she damn near flunked Medieval History, so her being able to recognize a weapon from that time period were long odds at the best case).

She lightly gripped the hilt of her short-sword (it _had_ to be a short-sword; it was too long to be a dagger…that _or_ someone from the prop team decided it would be funny to give her a Roman sword instead…a 'Gladius' or something…she then briefly remembered that she almost flunked _Ancient_ Medieval History, too) to…well, see what it felt like. From what she could tell, it was a leather of some sort, most likely deerskin or perhaps even eel-skin (just by going on texture alone, she wanted to say the leather was somewhat of a blend between the two). It also felt well worn, like she always had it at her side all this time. The very end of the hilt (the 'pommel,' if she guessed correctly…damn the fact that she didn't pay attention in class!) had a very large diamond or ruby encrusted in it (it was most likely the ruby, come to think of it…).

Wait—did a twig just snap? Oh, _crap._ She was doomed, she just knew it—

A small, green, ugly…_thing_ charged at her, screaming some sort of victory cry. Frantically, she tugged the short-sword out of its scabbard and got up quickly to block (she almost _thanked_ her mother for putting her through all those fencing classes she 'had' to take when she was ten…) the oncoming attacker.

Of course, her sword started to _glow,_ which made everything just _that_ much weirder…


	2. II: An attack and the Rite

**DISCLAIMER: **I own nothing but the plot and a few original characters/settings not formally recognized by Disney (and its branches) nor by Hasbro/Wizards of the Coast (and their branches).

The sound of metal smashing upon metal rang throughout the forest as the little green monster brought its blade down to meet hers.

That's when the glowing around her sword transferred to the monster's _eyeballs,_ briefly flashing purple before causing _enormous amounts of hurt_.

It screamed horribly, dropping its own blade in sheer agony, claws trying to grip at the pain that was _searing through its very own skull._ Tawni saw it try to _rip out its very own eyes out of their sockets_ in its attempt to dull the _brutal and ruthless agony._ It tugged and pulled but _its eyes wouldn't come out._ The pain _would not stop._

Then…there was _smoke._ Black, acrid, hazy _smoke_ spawning _from where its_ _eyeballs were._ The word 'unpleasant' didn't even _begin_ to describe the sight before her. In fact, she couldn't even find the right words to fit the picture. 'Horrible,' 'terrifying,' 'ugly,' all of the words in the world could not do the horror unfolding before her any justice.

Then—

The screaming stopped, but the smoke did not. The green monster fell forward as it drew its last breath, its eyes _burnt and fried horribly._ There was a soft 'thud,' and then there was silence.

Tawni's eyes darted from her own blade to the body and back again. Did she—? No, she couldn't have. Her blade had to be enchanted somehow. There was no way that she could've—

Pain seared through her own head as she grabbed it with both hands (her sword dropped out of her hands; it was so _painful_), trying to stop the hurt from causing more damage. God, what was this? Some sort of backlash? A drawback, perhaps brought on whatever energy she somehow unleashed?

_Well done, girl…we were starting to worry about you for a moment there…_

Oh, _God_ no; not the chorus again—!

_That goblin didn't stand a chance in the first place; he was a fool that deserved to be punished. People who cross those aligned with the fey are a blight that must be purged and cleansed profusely._

_You may be wondering about what's happening and why you're involved. After all, you _are_ just a girl…_

_We told you that you wouldn't get the answers from us. Besides, you'll learn soon enough. _

_You are our tool, our weapon. _We_ have given you gifts as per our pact. _Your_ purpose, then, is to serve us and forward our ideals. _

Dear God, please, make it stop—! This wasn't real! This _could not _be real! This was all a very, _very_ bad nightmare—!

_Your old name will no longer be used, as it belongs to a world we forced you to leave out of necessity. _We_ have great need of you _here,_ in _this_ world. _

_You'd best forget about your past life, _all_ of it, down to the very last modicum of it within your memories._

_Forget about your friends. Forget about your achievements. Forget about your status back then. Contrary to your refusal, this is the world you're in now. _

Lies; all of it was constructed of lies! The chorus was a sham, a fraud! Tawni tightly scrunched her eyes shut to block out the pulsing pain in her head.

_Oh, don't flatter yourself. We exist in this world, much like you. Do stop trying to deny it; it makes you look _so_ unprofessional…_

_We've killed you. We've smashed your previous life into shards. We've erased your past beliefs and replaced them with new ones. We've branded you with a new purpose, _our_ purpose. We've force you to cast off your old self so we could make you a new one._

No, no, no! How could this happen—?

The pain, _the pain!_ It was too much! She tried to fight back, tried to find her own train of thought, but the chorus rebuffed everything she threw at it.

_All we need now is a name for you. No, you don't get to choose one for yourself. _We're_ the ones that are pulling your strings, for we are your master. _

_As of this moment, Tawni Hart is _dead._ She will have never existed in this world or the past one. Her life was nothing more than a well-written fantasy. Her achievements were all cleverly intricate frauds…_

She was going to blackout again…she could already feel the dizziness begin to overtake her…she could already see the black edges begin to appear as they slowly closed in…

_Tawni Hart will be nothing more than a far-off dream once we are done with putting the finishing touches on you._

_For now, you must rest. When you awake, you will have a new name, one that we have given to you._

_Until then…you must rest._

The last thing she heard before slumber finally took her was _she _must_ learn and she must learn _fast. _We _must_ teach her our ways…_

_

* * *

_

"If we spend too much time teaching her, she'll never get anything done!"

"What good is a knife that is always blunt?"

"She's no good to us _dead,_ as well."

"Who said she'd die?"

"It was implied that she would."

"Odd, her fate-weave doesn't include _that._"

"Keep a close eye on her weave; if she deviates, we will…_correct_ her mistakes."

"Very well…the issue of her new name is still unresolved, however."

"Yes, she needs a new name before her Rite is complete and she is granted all her powers."

"Aye, and her Rite is coming along to a close rather quickly, at that."

"Shall I—?"

"No, no. Let the weave take its course—"

"We can't afford to. It's too risky. She _must_ follow the path that's been woven for her—"

"A name; she needs a new _name._"

"…Very well, then; let Tawni Hart as an entity die in peace.

"Gwenn Astra shall fill the void where Tawni Hart once stood. Let the Rite be complete."

"And so shall it be."

"I still say we should've waited…the war hasn't even _begun_ and we're already unleashing our newest weapon instead of saving it for when the time is right."

"Oh, hush. She has all her powers available to her now. Besides, we need to strike a critical blow against our foes _now_ than when we're all out of—"

"A problem just occurred. Her fate-weave has changed and rewoven itself with another."

"Could she have—?"

"No…her weave changed on its own. Now it's woven with…some boy's."

"Perhaps it was already woven with his to begin with?"

"Yes, perhaps."

"The boy is expendable. We should really focus on—"

"No, no he is _not._ His is woven with hers for a _reason._ Let us exploit this to our full advantage."

"Yes…we should. We _will._"


End file.
